


Say it with Flowers

by MsChupacabra



Category: Generator Rex
Genre: Drabble, Family Feels, Flashback fic, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Numbers' Private Island, headcanon fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:22:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23844412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsChupacabra/pseuds/MsChupacabra
Summary: Six has a difficult time adjusting to his new life on the Numbers' island.
Relationships: Dos/One (Generator Rex), Six & Dos (Platonic)
Kudos: 7





	Say it with Flowers

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Written for the shipsahoy Valentine challenge on Amino. There, you can also read the sequel response written by [Five](http://aminoapps.com/p/84d5oy). It's so awesome! 
> 
> 2) Did not know how to write bby Six so I took inspo from [this person's headcanon](https://aminoapps.com/c/generator-rex/page/user/sparky-aka-v/mkRl_NmCnfRwBZoxqZKrRl3xLbjNqJeDpki2) on amino abt Six being selectively mute.
> 
> enjoy!

The chores given to him that day were completed. Six's lessons were finished too. He was often left unable to concentrate on the academic aspects of his studies when so much energy went dedicated to his combative training and on the island’s maintenance.

However, he was never too exhausted to visit the feral cats that inhabited the island. After dinner, he would save a portion of his meal and trek quietly through the forest where he knew the colony lived. They had grown accustomed to receiving food from him and rushed to greet him every time, begging loudly for his table scraps. He was fond of one in particular, an unfriendly white cat with a beautiful fluffy coat. Initially, the animal had avoided him completely, but enough trust had developed between them that he now allowed Six to pet him. He fed him extra portions, guilty of choosing a favorite. 

Once he was finished giving them their meals, he would linger to watch the cats empathetically. They had to fend for themselves, struggling to survive, unsure of where their next meal would come from. They had made the island their home, but he knew that it was a home built on shaky ground. He had a feeling that if anyone were to discover the colony’s existence, it would put them all in danger. 

He expected One to grow angry with him if he ever found out what he was doing, but he never did.

“Let’s keep this from Dos, hm? I don’t think he cares much for animals...” One cautioned as they watched the cats play. Between them, one of the kittens leapt at a bug, attempting to catch it in between her paws. Six directed his eyes down at the animal, unable to meet his mentor’s gaze, but he silently agreed and wondered if Dos cared for anything at all. 

He thought he had done a pretty good job of guarding their secret. 

He was wrong. 

On one of his evening jaunts into the forest, he found that the entire colony had gone missing. Only Dos stood there among the trees, a stern scowl set on his face. Six was afraid, not for himself, but for the cats. 

“I had the guards remove and deliver them to the nearest city’s shelters.” Dos informed flatly. 

So they weren’t dead. Relief flooded Six’s entire system, but his heart continued to throb painfully. His throat constricted with a familiar tightness. He thought that he was trembling too, but he wasn’t certain.

“Do not feed strays or they will never leave. They are filthy and disease ridden.” He continued to admonish. “Do you think we provide you with food just so you can throw it out this way?” 

Six didn’t have an answer, but then again, he never could find the words when it came to Dos. Thankfully, he was practiced at keeping his expression smooth, blank, and pretending he was someplace else. It was so much more difficult to keep his composure than it had been ever before. Somehow, he felt more hurt than all of the times he was caught and physically disciplined for stealing back in his home village. His eyes veered to the side, hoping to find at least one cat who had avoided capture. He had grown to love them so.

Dos misread the lack of eye contact as inattentiveness and shook his head, turning back toward the island’s cabins. When he was gone, Six allowed himself a shuddery breath.

His careless mistake in leading Dos to the feral cats placed One in trouble too. From his own cabin, as he feigned sleep, he could hear them arguing outside. They were nearly out of earshot, so he had to strain in order to hear them. 

“I am the one who allowed him to feed the animals.” One stated calmly. 

“Why does this not surprise me?”

“I saw no harm in what he was doing.” 

“Of course you did not.” Dos scoffed. “You love the flea-bitten mongrels. But even if you do not think so, there is harm in allowing feral cat communities to go unchecked. They are a danger to the other wildlife.” 

“And here I thought you simply hated animals. I never knew you were so protective of them, Dos.” 

“I happen to be very fond of the birds.” 

“You know, bird-watching is not a young man’s hobby. I think your age is beginning to show.”

“We are the same age, you bastard.” 

It was strange. They didn’t sound like they were serious anymore, their insults seemed playful. There were times when One was occasionally lighthearted with Six, but those moments were few and far between; and he could not recall Dos ever being that way. Granted, he’d only known the latter for a few short weeks. 

There was a lengthy pause. Six thought that they were finished speaking, but One interrupted the silence with a question.

“How is he doing in his studies?”

Although he didn’t say his name, he knew that they were speaking about him again.

“Remarkable as always where combat is concerned.” Dos reported, without making it sound like a compliment. “Given enough time, I can easily see him surpassing the other students in that respect.”

“And the rest?” 

“I can’t get him to so much as put a pen to paper. You told me that he could speak English.” 

“He can. He’s proficient in English, Mandarin, and Japanese.” One informed; his words were not praise either, but an assessment of what he’d observed. “Before bringing him here to you, I spent the last two years tutoring him personally. He is very quick to grasp other languages, perhaps due to his young age. When I met him, he could only speak in Cantonese.”

“I have yet to hear him breathe a word. I think that it would be best if you continued to instruct him instead of me. It is what he is used to.” 

“Give the arrangement some time. It would disappoint me if you could not find common ground with him.” 

It had never occurred to Six before, but he was now becoming acutely aware that One had a life outside of simply teaching him. It discomforted him, in a perspective-shattering way, to learn that his mentor belonged to other people too. Life had been so simple when it was just the two of them traveling across the Eastern Hemisphere. He didn’t want to divide his mentor’s attention between himself and others, but he knew that if One wanted them to get along, Dos must have meant a great deal to him too. 

Disappointing One was the last thing Six wanted.

The discussion between the men died down from outside, but sleep never found him. His eyes fluttered open and he flipped onto his side, facing the open window. Lately, he was developing the habit of forgetting to sleep. He didn’t think he could anymore, lost in the view of the vast ocean surrounding his new home. The breeze of the salty sea rustled the curtains, and he spent the rest of his night listening to the crash of waves against the shore. 

His first and final attempt to find “common ground” with his instructor began the following class day. It was only the two of them in the lecture hall, and Dos was briefly summarizing the history of Rome for him. Offhandedly, the man made a mention of Italy being Valentine’s Day’s place of origin.

The holiday was only a week away. 

Flipping to an empty page in his notebook, he wrote out a careful message and held it up for inspection. 

_'Will you gift something to One-san?'_

Dos stopped mid-sentence, taken aback. “What?” 

Turning his notebook around again, he made a quick addition to his question.

_'Will you gift something to One-san? For Valentine’s Day.'_

“No!” His teacher’s face flushed. “What makes you think...”

So he had assumed incorrectly, most likely offending the man. Six dropped his gaze, fixing it squarely on his desk. 

“We are only friends.” The refined man sounded uncharacteristically awkward, attempting to pull him back into the conversation. He then snorted and added,“But there are some days where I think he enjoys putting that to the test.”

There was that strange, fake-disdain in his voice once again, like the pretend-insults they had traded outside of the cabin. He raised his head to watch him curiously, wondering why it was they spoke to and about each other in that manner. 

“And I would not know what to get him. I do not pay attention to what he likes,” Dos continued, rolling his eyes. “The less I have to think about what must go on in his head, the better.” 

That sounded like a lie too. 

_'You pretend not to like him_.' He wrote.

“What gives you that idea?” 

_'You insult One-san a lot, but you never mean the things that you say. Why would you say them?'_

Dos hesitated. He didn't have a response ready for him and was searching for the right way to phrase whatever it was that he wanted to say. He hadn't anticipated conversation from Six that evening, so he was clearly caught off guard.

"The things we do matter far more than anything we could say. Don't you agree?" He finally asked. 

No. Wasn't he afraid One would begin to believe his words and not his actions? Wouldn't speaking falsely lessen the value of his words? Gratitude. Love. Promises. They'd all be rendered meaningless if he did one thing and said another.

"We have gotten off-topic for long enough." Dos picked up a piece of chalk.

_'You could_ \--' Six started to write, but stopped himself.

While traveling with One, Six could recall passing through a town where a festival had been taking place in celebration of love. Personally, he had experienced no feeling except apathy that day. To him, it meant nothing except that the stores were overstocked with candy, but he remembered the brightly colored decorations and the abundance of flowers. 

From a restaurant balcony where he and his mentor had been eating lunch that day, he witnessed the enthusiasm of the couples who celebrated. There had been a girl on the sidewalk, watching as a man cut through the busy streets with an armful of roses just for her. She cried when the man finally reached her and presented her with the enormous bouquet. That was the day Six learned that it was possible to cry from reasons other than sadness. He couldn't imagine what that must feel like, to become so overwhelmed with joy that you could only cry because the happiness was too much. The experience had to be mildly unpleasant if it could reduce someone to tears, but he would bet that it felt warm too. 

_'You could get him flowers_ …' He finished.

“Feh,” Dos huffed a laugh, turning back toward the chalkboard to write down important dates. “One of us will have to die before we start exchanging flowers.”

* * *

The job of wiping down the mess hall fell on Six’s shoulders. The mop was only slightly too big for him. He didn’t mind the task, provided that everyone was out of the hall when he started it. He didn’t like most of the other assassins living on the island. It wasn’t that he was intimidated by them-- the worst they could do was attempt to kill him. Their personalities simply clashed with his own, the worst one being Trey’s.

They’d never formally met, never having exchanged so much as a word. Like Six, he had been personally trained by One, except Trey was more experienced and old enough to take on proper missions. Whenever the older boy returned from an assasination job, he would visit the mess hall for a drink or meal. It was the first thing he did when he got home, even before changing out of his clothes. He would leave behind streaks of blood and gore, dirtying the floors, tables, and seats. One and Dos constantly emphasized cleanliness. Did it just not matter to him? 

Six grunted in annoyance, looking down at the trail of red footprints leading out of the door. He was barely keeping upright, his eyelids drooping from the repetitive motions of his mop. But it wasn’t terrible work ethic that prevented him from doing a good job. 

“Do you know why you are tired?” 

Six’s eyes snapped open. In his surprise, he let go of his mop with a loud clatter.

Dos was sitting at one of the lunch tables, observing him disapprovingly. 

“You do not eat like you are supposed to. You give away half of your food to wild animals. If you finished your meals properly, you would have more energy.” 

More awake now, he leaned down to retrieve the mop he had dropped. Standing up straighter, he gave his instructor his full attention, wondering what he wanted. 

“Sit down.” Dos ordered and briefly left toward the kitchens. Six took a seat and watched him return with a bowl of stew. He set it down on the table in front of him and motioned for him to take it.

Accepting the bowl, he began eating without pausing to savor what he was tasting. It was bland anyway, but he didn’t care. He’d been so tired that he had not registered how hungry he really was. 

“One is convinced you will take on the mantle of Number Six one day. That is not an easy task, and you should feel grateful he thinks so much of you.”

He was grateful. A little pride glimmered in his eyes, a small smile spreading across his face. 

“But when I look at you, I am not convinced of anything.” Dos said, wiping the smile from his expression. “All I can see is a sickly child of only skin and bones, undeserving of any title. You look like you belong on a charity poster, begging for donations. You will not get anywhere the way you are now. No more going hungry. You will finish all of your food from now on.” 

Six continued to eat, as though Dos had just handed him his first meal in ages. With some pity, his teacher watched him and remarked, “When One told me he looked after you for the last two years, I should have known better than to believe he was doing a good job of it. What would that heartless bastard know about caring for anything?” 

Nothing could have been further from the truth. Six could not have come up with a less accurate adjective to describe One. He forgot his stew completely, dropping his spoon with a surge of irritation.

“One-san is not heartless.” He furiously managed to choke out.

Amused, the man across from him chuckled. “Is that what he has made you think?” 

Six scowled.

“My apologies.” He sounded insincere, irritating him further. “You must know him very well then. Perhaps you could even help me. What sort of things does a jerk like One enjoy anyway?” 

Confused by the question, Six cocked his head to the side. The action made Dos’ mouth twitch like he was ready to laugh at him again.

“You said that I should get him a gift on the day of San Valentín.” He reminded. Valentine's day was now two days away, but there was still ample time to purchase gifts. "Do you know what he likes?"

He could only offer a shrug. 

“Tomorrow, I am taking a trip to the city to look for a gift.” Dos said nonchalantly. “If you would like, you can come with me to help me search. Your opinion would be very useful to me.” 

What brought on the sudden change of heart? He wasn’t concerned with getting One anything just a few days ago. 

“You would be excused from your chores for the day.” His teacher added, tempting him into agreeing. Giving the mess hall a disgusted sweep of his eyes, Dos muttered something critical in another language under his breath. 

At last, Six finally nodded in agreement.

“We’ll leave at noon.” Dos informed, rising from his seat. “After you finish up here, make sure you get some sleep.” 

The man left him to finish his chores in silence. 

After the mess hall was left spotless, ready to be dirtied again tomorrow, he returned to his cabin. Six was going to make an attempt at sleeping, but was stopped in his tracks by the sight of a tank of water on his nightstand. It had not been there that morning before he left. Upon closer inspection, he spotted a few tiny minnows swimming inside. A note was stuck onto the outside of the tank’s glass. 

> ‘ _They’re not cats, but fish make good companions as well. Take good care of them._
> 
> _\--One. ‘_

He forgot to sleep for most of that night too, watching his new fish move about their enclosure until he could no longer physically keep his eyes open.

* * *

The afternoon sun was hotter in the city than when he was shielded by tall trees overhead. The passersby made it worse-- the air suffocated him. At the very least, nobody spared him a glance. They were all strangers going about their own business, but they still made Six anxious enough to stick close to Dos. 

Despite his unease, he knew the area rather well. He wasn’t afraid of getting lost and could find his way through the streets if he really needed to. Before moving to the island, he had lived in the city for quite some time, in a quiet apartment on the outskirts of the busy chaos. 

Unexpectedly, Dos stopped in front of a clothing store primarily for children and young adults. He opened the door and gestured for Six to walk inside.

“We might as well, since we are here. You look like you are in need of some new clothes.” 

But there was nothing wrong with the clothes he had on. He looked down at himself, examining his plain white shirt. His attire was always tidy, and One had already taken him shopping for himself on numerous occasions. Perhaps he was not dressed as extravagantly as any of the mannequins displayed in the shop window, but what use did an assassin have for fashion? 

“We do not have all day.” Dos pointed out. 

They were supposed to be shopping for a gift. Was that another one of his lies? 

With some reluctance but no further prompting, Six entered the store. It wasn’t the sort of shopping he was used to. Anything they purchased from the store would have to be ordered from a magazine, every item custom made. It would be three weeks before any of the clothes could be ready. Already, it seemed like such a hassle.

While the woman got down his measurements, he could see himself in one of the full length mirrors. The intensity of the store’s bright lights was dizzying, and for the first time, he could see what he looked like in great detail. The bones of his face were visible, his shirt larger than he initially thought. Beneath his eyes was sleep deprived discoloration. The boy in the reflection did not resemble a future assassin. 

Dos kept busy by flipping through a catalogue. He gave Six some quick advice, “If you want to be the Sixth, you should start by dressing like it.” 

With their business at the shop finished, they took to the streets again. He’d been truthful when telling Dos that he didn’t know what One would enjoy receiving as a present. It made him feel a little guilty, inconsiderate, especially after receiving new pets from the man. 

The stores that they entered had nothing worth spending money on, and they must have passed by at least a dozen shops. Dos was never actively looking for anything either. For the rest of the trip, he seemed entirely uninterested in what was going on. Why had he even invited him shopping when he didn’t care about what they purchased?

Six was certain of one thing however, watching as Dos picked up a very ugly vase. They were not getting him something so awful. He seized the man’s sleeve and tugged on it, shaking his head at him.

“Did you not say I should get him flowers? What would he put them in?” 

He shook his head again. 

Rolling his eyes, the man placed the vase back onto the vendor’s stand. "It is getting very late. I think it is about time we went home."

But he had yet to buy a single thing. Shaking his head, Six gripped his sleeve tighter and continued walking. This time, he was the one leading.

Attempting to take his hand back, Dos shook his arm a bit before surrendering. "We can try one more store, but then we must go. By the time we ride the ferry back, it will be night. You obviously do not get as much sleep as is."

That suited him just fine. He already had a store in mind. It was the first weapons shop One had ever taken him to. That was after Six had gained enough experience practicing with his training swords. That store in particular specialized in blades and prioritized them over firearms. It appeared that Dos had already visited the shop before too because the owner of the store greeted him as soon as they stepped inside. 

“A practical gift would be appreciated more than a sentimental one.” Dos agreed, his eyes passing over the items on display behind one of the glass cases. Finally, he began to look more involved with shopping, making his way toward the back of the store. 

Six trailed behind him with a frown. Just because something was practical, didn't mean it had to lack feeling. He examined the array of blades and knives, pausing at the sight of a beautiful sword. The hilt was ivory, fashioned to appear as though it were made of white roses. Once again, his hand shot out to tug Dos’ shirt sleeve in order to get his attention. 

After all, he did tell the man to buy flowers.

* * *

_**[EXTRA]** _

Dos blew a puff of smoke out from his mouth, watching through his shades as the tides lazily crawled up and down the sandy beach. A prettily wrapped box sat under his chair. When One’s shadow finally descended upon him, blocking his light, he stared at him expectantly. 

“Your arrogant face is blocking the sun.” 

“My arrogant face has earned me a Valentine.”

“My sympathies to your Valentine. What poor taste they must have.” 

“You’re wrong.” One crouched beside the arm of his chair so that they were at eye level with each other. “I imagine his taste is never short of exquisite…”

Dos debated just hurling the gift into the ocean. He could feel his own face getting warmer and not because of the sun. 

“Viejo sinvergüenza. How people come to regard you so highly, I have no idea. You are an indecent, bad person.” He grumbled in defeat, grabbing the gift box from under his chair and passing it to him. 

One reached out as though he were going to accept it. With a swipe of his arm, he knocked it out of Dos’ hands and leaned closer to kiss him. 


End file.
